


The Suit Maketh The God

by stephrc79



Series: Gods and Mortals [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: I would apologize to the suits, M/M, Suit Porn, but it was for a good cause, suit destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 06:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13207950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephrc79/pseuds/stephrc79
Summary: It's been a year since Steve and Thor started sleeping together. A year of great sex, and good friendship, and Steve slowly finding his place in the modern world.But lately, each time Thor goes home to Asgard, Steve can't help but miss him just a little bit more. Maybe it's time they took their relationship out of the bedroom.Perfect timing too, since Tony has all the Avengers attending a gala in their honor. And he's having bespoke clothes made for every single one of them.Steve has never seen Thor in a suit. Steve issofucked.





	The Suit Maketh The God

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brenda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/gifts).



> This is a STUPIDLY late birthday fic for [Brenda](http://brendaonao3.tumblr.com/). Hope you love it, babe!

Two more thrusts, and Steve slams home, his orgasm a blinding shock to the system, white hot and all consuming.

He slumps over Thor’s back, and they collapse onto the bed, the comedown just as intense as the orgasm itself. There’s a soft rumbling of laughter rippling along strong muscle, and he smiles. “What?”

“I was just thinking,” Thor says and props himself up onto his forearms. Steve barely affords himself a glance up – couldn’t do more than that if he tried – to find Thor smiling back at him.

“Yeah? Thinking what?”

“If this is what I can expect to come back to, I’m just wondering if I shouldn’t take _more_ trips home to Asgard.”

Steve blushes and buries his face a little bit in Thor’s back. “That good, huh?”

Steve feels Thor nod. “Quite.” Then, in one deft move, Thor rolls them until he’s on top of Steve, an avaricious smile playing across his lips. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you missed me.” He grinds down against Steve’s hip, his meaning unmistakable.

Steve prays he’s not still blushing. Because, as it’s turned out, Thor isn’t that far off the mark. Sure, the last year has been some of the best sex of Steve’s life. And if that’s all it was, that would be fine. But Thor doesn’t live on Earth, and the times he’s had to go back to Asgard, Steve’s begun to miss him – a feeling that has slowly settled somewhere in his chest.

After the ice – after losing _him_ – Steve had been certain he’d never find happiness again, especially not in this new life, where everything is harsh and violent and _bright_. Steve sometimes likens it to Dorothy finding Oz, but for him there’s no going back to Kansas.

But then there’s Thor, and he’s been... Steve doesn’t know _what_ to call him. Aside from the fairly regular sex, he’s not Steve’s boyfriend, or partner, or anything really – hell, he’s barely a friend. Though there was that enlightening conversation he’d had with Romanoff once where he’d learned about the existence of the term ‘fuck buddy’. That had put things in an interesting perspective.

All it comes down to is, right now Thor is hovering over him with a look that says he’s ready for round seventeen, essentially implying that Steve’s missed his dick, and all Steve can think is how he’s maybe kind of missed more than _just_ Thor’s dick. And he thinks maybe he should tell him. At some point.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” is what comes out instead. Because now is not the time for this discussion. He grabs on to the meat of Thor’s ass with both hands and grinds their cocks together. “So why don’t you get to work and prove to me it was worth the wait.”

~~~~

Thor lays with his head pillowed against Steve’s inner thigh, his hair tickling Steve’s softened cock, making him occasionally twitch. After Steve’s new body, he never allowed himself to truly test his limits sexually, so not once in all that time had he experienced anything like over-sensitivity. Yet, after the absolute _railing_ Thor just gave him, right now he just wants to brush the hair out of the way. It also kind makes him want to laugh in delight.

“What are you smiling about?” Thor asks, shaking him out of his thoughts. He glances down to find curious, storm-blue eyes staring back at him. He never noticed how much Thor’s eyes seem to match his moniker: they really do look like the calm before the storm.

“Oh, nothing, really,” he answers, with a small shake of his head. “I was just thinking how long it’s been since I felt like this body had gone through its paces.”

Thor frowns. “‘Through its paces’?”

“Oh.” Steve pillows his head on his arm as he searches for the right way to describe the phrase. “Horse analogy, I think. When you essentially put a horse through its various –”

“Ah, yes!” Thor’s eyes light up. “I remember now; it means to test someone thoroughly, right?”

Steve nods, can’t help the fond smile. “Yeah.”

Thor laughs. “I’d forgotten the term, actually, it’s been so long since I had heard it in use.” He sighs and shifts to face Steve more fully, and Steve resolutely ignores just how close Thor’s mouth is to his dick. “It’s always been fascinating to me, watching what has come in and out of fashion with your species. Like that phrase, for example. I believe the last time I’d heard it was around...your 1850, I think. Something like that. And yet, not even your parents had been born yet.”

Steve does some quick math in his head, only to furrow his brow. “Just exactly how old are you?”

Thor barks out a laugh and sits up, a mischievous smile crinkling the corner of his eyes. “In my youth, I saw the formation of what you Midgardians commonly refer to as the Spanish Inquisition, as I believe it’s called.”

_In my youth._

All Steve can do is stare at him. If he remembers his schooling, the Spanish Inquisition was founded sometime around when Columbus was discovering America.

“Cradle robber,” he says a moment later, and Thor bursts out laughing, loud and all-encompassing, and something inside of Steve clenches just a little bit harder. He thinks _maybe..._

He’s never going to get back what he had. Those two people who’d meant the world to him are gone, for the most part, and he’s never getting that back. Maybe it is time he finally figures out how to move the hell on. If Bu – if _he_ was here, he’d be kicking Steve’s ass all up and down the block for mooning over him for so long. Same with Pegs. Come to think of it, they both would call him a jackass and promptly beat him to a pulp for being so stupid. They were both scary like that.

As Thor’s laugh subsides, Steve figures maybe it _is_ time he just go for it. He takes a deep breath and wills himself not to fidget. “So hey, I was wondering,” he starts as Thor flops down next to him. “Did you get that invite from Stark for that gala thing in a few weeks?” Steve knows everyone on the team got one, but he’s not sure if that counts for the guy who technically doesn’t live on this planet.

Thor cocks an eyebrow. “Are you referring to that garish event where we’re expected to – and I am quoting here – ‘attend in all of their Avengers glory – the God of Thunder with his hammer, Captain America with his shield, and Iron Man flying by in his latest suit’?” Steve can feel the disgust coming off of him as he recites back the formal invite. “Is that the circus you’re referring to?”

He nods and gives a commiserating laugh. “That’s the one, all right. But, uh, you should know that was the event committee’s invitation. Um...” He laughs again and scratches at his nose, still more nervous than he wants to be. “I think Tony has other plans for us, though.”

“Other plans.”

“Yeah.” Steve nods. “Something about how he’s having custom suits – you know, the _normal_ kind – made for all of us. They’re supposed to have hints of our respective uniform colors in them. Anyway, I guess he’s just as annoyed as you and me over the showboating, so he wants to show them up. Piss them off, I think.”

“That does sound like Tony.”

“It does, yeah.”

Thor tilts his head, the question on his face before he even opens his mouth. “And is there a reason you’re asking me about this?”

_Now or never, Rogers._

Steve shrugs like the dumb idiot that he is. “Well, I was wondering, if you were thinking about going, I was wondering if you might want to go. With me. Together.”

Thor bites his lip, clearly fighting a smile, and Steve wonders exactly how long it’ll take for him to find the nearest fox hole to crawl into and never surface again.

“Steven, I’m curious.” Thor inclines his head. “Are you asking me to escort you to the event?”

Steve can’t help but snort. “We’re both grown-ass men, Thor. I don’t think anyone’s _escorting_ anyone. I just thought... I don’t know...” He shrugs again, and glances around, a little helpless, and suddenly very much aware of just how naked he is. How naked they both are. “I was thinking we could make this a date. Officially.”

Thor watches him, his expression shrewd, but other than that, not something Steve can get a read on. In all honesty, he really has no idea how Thor will answer. It’s not like this has been something either has ever discussed. It’s always just been about blowing off some steam. Steve will be the first to admit that _neither_ of them has ever hinted at wanting anything else.

And if Thor says no, Steve will be okay with that. He’s just...really hoping that he doesn’t.

“This is something you desire?” Thor asks, his expression unchanged. Though the question doesn’t come across as wary, just curious. That’s at least a good sign. “You would like this to be something more?”

Steve gives himself a moment to answer. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just know that we have fun together, and I’ll admit, I miss having you around when you’re back on Asgard. Figure that’s gotta mean something, right?”

Thor’s smile creeps on slow, lights his eyes in a way Steve hasn’t ever seen. They’re almost fond. “Indeed, it does. I too must admit, I’ve thought several times about taking you with me when I’ve gone home. If that’s something you might be interested in, of course. Maybe sometime after this event?”

Relief tickles down Steve’s spine, and he smiles back. He knows a yes when he hears one. “I’ve actually wondered what Asgard looks like.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I believe it.”

Steve then slips over Thor’s hips and settles against his chest, reveling in how good they feel pressed together. “The event starts at seven. Meet me at, say, six-thirty?”

Thor’s hands run over Steve’s back to grip his ass and leans in for a kiss. “Sounds like a date.”

~~~~

The view inside The Aviary at the Mandarin Oriental is probably one of the most spectacular views Steve has ever seen. Sitting just off Columbus Circle, it has a clear view of Central Park and 59th Street, a perfect blend of nature and city life. The restaurant itself is beautiful in its own right – with polished black marble set against smooth cherry oak, high-backed, soft brown leather couches and chairs, and a swirl of lights overhead that bounce off gleaming crystal. Steve isn’t entirely sure how he’s expected to leave once Thor arrives. Screw heading to the Lincoln Center, he starts to wonder if anyone would notice if he just sets up a bunk in a corner by the bar.

When he’d sat down, he’d made a point of ordering his Macallan M neat without looking at a menu. The decor and view alone are enough for Steve to know that the word ‘expensive’ is not something that sits in Tony’s vocabulary, and he is the one footing the bill for all of this. Steve doesn’t need to know how that translates into the smooth amber liquid sitting in front of him.

Logically, he knows that alcohol doesn’t affect him, but he still can’t help taking a sip to calm his nerves. Pavlovian response, he thinks. Or maybe it’s a placebo effect, he isn’t sure. But the drink _is_ helping. It’s been so long since he’s been on a first date, he’s genuinely afraid he’ll fuck it up somehow. The only thing he has going for him is that he knows that he doesn’t have to worry about how people date these days. Thor’s at least old enough that anything Steve does probably won’t seem antiquated.

He glances down at his suit. Tony had called it a ‘heritage tuxedo’ and Steve hadn’t missed the joke. It’s a deep navy-blue suit with a slim cut, single breasted, and red piping along the edges. The slacks are also a slim cut – not at all what he’s used to wearing, but it fits him well. It’s not too flashy, despite the red, and he feels both like he could fit in at a modern-day party, but also blend into the crowd, if need be. The shirt is a crisp white, with buttons hidden behind a single pleat, and the finishing touch is a set of platinum cufflinks designed to look like his shield.

Steve has to admit, as modern as the style is, he thinks he looks damn good. Probably the best he’s ever looked, since the closest thing to a good suit he’s ever owned was his dress greens. This is hands down the nicest – and easily most expensive – thing he’s ever worn. He briefly wonders how much shit he’ll get from Tony if he asks him to outfit his entire closet. The guy’s annoying as hell, but he has taste, Steve will give him that.

He has no idea what Thor’s wearing – he made sure not to ask. In truth, the only outfit he _does_ know about is Romanoff’s, since she set up their fittings together. Her black, deep v-neck satin dress did indeed hug her like her bodysuit, and Steve thought the red hourglass pin that adorned the bottom of the vee was a nice touch. Apparently, it was Swarovski, as were the wrist cuffs she was wearing with it. Coupled with the high slit of her dress, because, as she’d put it, “makes it easier to access my thigh holster that way’, it had reminded him of Pegs. Stylish and functional, at all times.

As Steve takes another sip of his scotch, a hint of gray in the far mirror catches his eye. When he turns, he just about drops his damn glass.

Thor is standing just inside the entrance to the restaurant, glancing around, and it’s like the room has vanished and narrowed down to Thor and Thor only. His hair is soft and graceful, pulled back from his face in a neat half-braid with a few loose strands framing his face. But that’s not really important, not when Steve can’t tear his eyes away from what Thor has on. He’s wearing a gray, three-piece tuxedo with a burgundy satin trim along the lapel, pewter studs and cufflinks. The single-breasted cut of the jacket is broad across his shoulders, tailored to perfection around his waist and hips, and the vest hugs him like well-formed armor. And of course, _of course,_ he hasn’t closed his collar. His burgundy bow tie is open and loose around his neck, the top two buttons undone, exposing the faintest hint of collarbone.

He can’t breathe. It’s 1942, and he can’t breathe. The suit looks like it’s made of butter, and Steve’s hand twitches to touch it. It’s at that moment that Thor notices him, and the way his eyes turn hungry for the briefest of fractions, Steve guesses he too likes what he sees. So, he stands up to give the full view as Thor walks over, smoothing out his jacket as he does.

“That suit does you well, Steve.” Thor’s comment is nothing but polite, but his gaze continues to rake Steve over, like a predator sizing his prey. He only stops when he lands on Steve’s lips. “I must admit, Tony might just have a knack for this sort of thing.”

“Or his tailor does,” Steve responds, his voice hoarse. He reaches out to brush a finger along Thor’s sleeve. It’s _exactly_ like butter.

Thor’s laugh is low, quiet, just for Steve, as he steps that much closer. “That does make more sense, yes.” He trails a hand down Steve’s flank, and Steve shivers at the touch, little electric currents at each point of contact.

Steve _wants._ Can feel it down to his marrow. He immediately wishes the night was already over so he could take Thor back to his ridiculously expensive room and take him apart, suit piece by suit piece.

It takes him a good heartbeat to get himself under control, to get his breathing to even out, to stop the constant shudder that’s rippling right down to his toes. He takes a step back before the magnetic pull gives him no choice but to step forward and _take._

He huffs a soft laugh. “You keep looking at me like that, and there won’t be a gala to get to. And uh” – he takes Thor’s hand – “this is supposed to be a date, right?”

“Yes, yes it is.” Thor laughs just as softly. “Would you like to have a drink before we head over?” He nods to Steve’s forgotten scotch.

Steve blinks and glances at the barely-touched drink. “Oh. Yes. That – that works.” He returns to his seat as Thor takes the one next to him.

The bartender (who’s name also happens to be Anthony, because Steve has always hated not knowing the names of the people who wait on him) is there within seconds. “May I get you anything, sir?”

Thor inclines his head towards Steve’s drink. “May I?”

It takes Steve a second to realize Thor is addressing him, and he nods, pushing the tumbler toward him. “Sure, go for it.”

The way Thor’s lips wrap around the edge of the glass should be illegal – probably _is_ in some states. Probably some countries.

He takes a small sip, his expression thoughtful, then he nods before setting the drink back in front of Steve. “Yes, I’ll have that, please. And please make it...” He pauses and turns inquiringly to Steve. “I believe you call it a triple?”

Steve laughs. “Well, most people don’t order more than a double, but then, you aren’t most people, so yeah” – he turns back to Anthony – “might as well give him a triple. Hell, make it a quadruple.” He smiles at Thor. “He can take it.”

“Indeed, I probably can,” Thor shoots back, his gaze locked on Steve.

Anthony nods. “Right away, sir,” and goes to pour Thor’s drink.

“What did I just order?”

“A Macallan M,” Steve answers. “I have no idea how high end of a scotch it is, but Tony poured some for me one night during one of his more maudlin moods, and he tends to reach for the better-than-good stuff when he gets like that.” He shrugs. “I didn’t even check to see if it was on the menu; I just asked for it. Figured a place like this would have it, and you know, it’s damn good. So why not order it.”

“All good points,” Thor says just as Anthony places two tumblers in front of him, with what looks like two fingers in each.

“A scotch of this caliber needs breathing room,” he explains, “so I took it upon myself to divide it into two glasses. You can appreciate it better that way.”

“And I appreciate you for taking that initiative,” Thor says back, and Steve will freely admit he maybe melts a little. Steve has always been a big fan of treating those in customer service well.

Anthony wanders off, presumably to help someone else, and Steve turns to Thor. “He’s right, actually. I should have suggested it, but looks like I didn’t need to. The kid seems to know his shit.”

Thor starts laughing. “You do realize he looks like he has a good ten years on you.”

Steve glances back at Anthony, who does look like he might be pushing forty. “Maybe so. And I get that someone like him probably has more years of actual living than I do, but I don’t know.” He turns back to Thor and gives him a tight smile. “I feel my years.”

“Do you remember when this all started?” Thor asks, and sets one of his glasses down, his expression oddly serious. “That sparring session?”

“Of course I do.” How could he _not?_

“I won’t ever forget it, you know. And not because of what came of it.” Thor smirks, a huff of breath escaping him. “I won’t forget it because I honestly do not recall the last time I saw that kind of hunger in a man, save myself. That... _need_ to prove yourself and prove what you are capable of. And since then, I have noticed...this chasm in you. There are moments you really are a man who has lived through several lifetimes. And then, in other times, you seem like just a boy who wants nothing more than for the world to take him seriously.”

Steve’s vision has barely turned red, his blood going white-hot, before Thor’s hand is on his. He almost yanks it back. If it wasn’t for the pleading look in Thor’s eyes, he would have.

“Please do not mistake me, Steven.” Thor gives his hand a small squeeze. “I do not mean to impress on you that I think you are immature, quite the contrary. All I mean is that – I feel that you have never been given a real chance. A chance to prove what you are _truly_ capable of because you have never met your equal. And as I once said, even with me, I’m not your equal, though I suspect I’m the closest you’ll ever get.” With his free hand, he takes a sip of his drink. “It’s partly why I’ve wished to take you back to Asgard with me. It’s more than just that I miss you.” He gives Steve a half smile. “I wish to give you the opportunity to pit yourself against warriors who will give you the fight you want. The fight you _deserve.”_

Steve’s floored. He sits back, staring, and thinks, for the first time, maybe, he sees Thor. And that maybe also for the first time he sees Thor in himself.

“You get it,” he whispers, and can’t help but twine their fingers together. “You _get_ it.”

Thor takes another sip. “I do.”

Steve doesn’t hesitate, just takes the glass out of Thor’s hand and sets it aside so he can pull him in for a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, and he can taste the scotch they both have been drinking. But there’s something else under it, something more, and as Thor cups Steve’s nape to hold him in place, hold him close, Steve thinks he recognizes what it is. It’s depth, as far down and as vast as the ocean itself. It’s intent and meaning, and maybe more than just a little bit of understanding. Thor tastes just like he always does, and different all the same, because for the first time Steve notices what he’s seemed to have always missed: he tastes himself.

“I...” Steve’s shaking as they part, coming undone, and unable to focus on anything. He forces himself to look at Thor, his eyes traveling down the expanse of gray and white and burgundy, the sharp cut and smooth lines of the suit. Thor should dress like this all the time.

“We should leave,” Thor murmurs, his hand still on Steve’s neck. For a moment, Steve thinks he means they should take this someplace other than the very public restaurant, but then Thor’s hand slides around, brushes against Steve’s collar, before he lets go entirely and leans back. He looks distant as he picks up one of his glasses and downs it in one shot. “We are expected shortly, and you were right.”

“I was right?” Steve has no idea what he’s talking about.

Thor nods as he picks up his second glass and shoots that one, too. He then stands up, the move crowding him right into the vee of Steve’s legs. “Yes, earlier. If we don’t leave now, I’m not entirely certain we’ll make it there at all.”

“Right.” Steve jerks his head. “Leaving, yes. We should – do that.”

He finishes his drink and stands as well. Thor still hasn’t moved, and the proximity is making Steve’s head spin. Thor has always smelled a little like battle to him – like sweat and steel and earth. And right now, it’s filling every one of Steve’s senses. The Thor he knows from missions, and the absolutely exquisite man in front of him, merge, and the imagery rocks Steve to his very foundation. He needs to get out of here. He needs _space._

He slips past Thor, working his level best not to gasp at that brief second where they’re pressed together, ignoring the way Thor does. He wanted this – he _asked_ for this. He wants to go on a date with Thor, spend an evening just getting to know each other as men. He wants to see if whatever keeps tripping him up is a knee-jerk reaction to what is probably his closest friend not being around, or if it means more. If he _wants_ more. He thinks he does, and he doesn’t want to fuck it up by...well, by fucking Thor.

He gives himself a moment to compose before turning around and offering his hand. He knows his smile is strained, but it’s the best he can do. _God,_ he wishes it was several hours from now. “Would you like to go?”

Thor takes his hand, and Steve doesn’t miss the mirror of his own smile, even as his fingers tingle at each curve. “Yes, I think that would be good.” He waves a hand toward the exit. “I believe you know the way there better than I do.”

Steve heads out of the restaurant toward the bank of elevators. It doesn’t take long for one to arrive, but he’s too busy taking in the bright onyx of Thor’s shoes, the fact that his cufflinks are like Steve’s – little hammers, where Steve has little shields. The way he can’t stop staring at Thor’s undone tie.

As they step into the elevator, he brushes a finger against the silk. “Did you forget something?”

Thor glances down. “Oh. No. We don’t wear collars like this on Asgard, and I found it rather constricting. So I left it open.” He smiles, rakish. “I understand that’s a fashionable option among Midgardian men.”

“Well, it’s certainly working on me.”

Thor’s laugh booms around the small space. It’s a sound Steve has come to know so well, because if anyone loves to laugh, it’s Thor. He makes Steve feel...happy? Maybe happy is the right word. It’s been so long, he wasn’t sure he remembered what happy is supposed to feel like.

He leans back against the side wall and nods toward Thor. “That suit really does look good on you. I gotta admit, it’s making me miss your armor less and less.”

“Oh, is it now.” Thor’s smile spreads slow, wide. “Wasn’t it just a few months ago that you demanded to fuck me in that armor?”

Steve remembers that night all too well. “No more than you returned the favor by fucking me in my new dark ops suit.”

Thor’s gaze shifts, eyes heavy-lidded. “Ah, yes. That new suit is a particular favorite.”

“Well, they did keep your advice on armored protection in mind.”

“That they did.” Steve hums for lack of a better response and Thor just continues to look at him, stare at him, _watch_ him. “I must say, though, for all the ways your new suit works for me, this...” He pushes himself off the opposite wall and saunters right back into Steve’s space, and Steve honestly has no idea what’s going on. Not until his breath catches at a strong hand gripping his waist. “This particular suit is probably my favorite.”

Steve swallows, willing his mouth to work. “Really? Not my battle gear?”

“You are especially stunning in that, it’s true. But...I’m not sure.” His eyes roam freely over Steve’s face and body, in a way that should make him feel exposed, but here, just turns him on. “In battle, you have never looked more beautiful. But in this...what’s that Midgardian phrase? About cleaning up?”

Steve smiles. “You clean up nice.”

“Ah. Yes, that’s it.”

“You know, I could say the same thing about you,” he breathes and leans back against the wall, his hands spasming, afraid to touch. “What are you doing?”

Thor falters, but it’s a bare thing. “Do you wish for me to stop?”

Steve can’t help but glance at the numbers on the elevator. They passed his floor a long time ago. They’re actually almost to the lobby, and he feels like he’s in some sort of limbo: to stay or to go.

Tony’s expecting them. The committee and all these new people in his life – his friends? – are expecting him.

But Steve has never been one for expectations.

He grips Thor’s hip, hard, just as the elevator doors ping open. “This elevator’s taken,” he says to the startled guests, though he’s more interested in the low chuckle that meets his ears, as Thor steps in, flush against him. He quickly reaches around to punch his floor, and then his mouth is on Thor’s, words lost. They can figure out this date thing later.

It doesn’t take long to get to Steve’s room. It’s opulent in all the ways that Steve’s not, and he doesn’t care about any of it, not when Thor is kicking the door closed behind them, his breath hot as he nuzzles in right behind Steve’s ear.

“Do you have any idea how amazing you look in this?” he asks, as his hands slide down Steve’s sides before coming around to grip his ass. Steve can’t help but push back. “I want nothing more than to take you just like this, still fully clothed.”

Thor bites into his shoulder, and Steve moans, because Jesus _fuck,_ it’s like Thor can read his mind. _“God,_ yes. Anything.”

“We would most likely damage these suits.”

“Yeah, and – _fuck_ – you care about that about as much as I do.”

Thor’s laugh is nothing short of wicked. “True.” He turns Steve around and walks him slowly backwards to the edge of the couch, his mouth hot and insistent.

Steve doesn’t know _what_ to do with his hands. Everything about his body was heightened with the serum, including his sensitivity, and the feel of the material – that silk-fine texture slip-sliding under his hands – has a choked whimper climbing its way right out of him. He wants Thor naked, to feel his skin. He wants Thor to leave the suit on so Steve, too, can ruin it, the way he’s wanted to since the moment he spotted Thor entering the restaurant.

“I can’t,” he murmurs against Thor’s lips, only to dive back in, hungry and desperate. They’re pressed together, Thor’s leg between Steve’s thigh, and he’s so turned on, he can barely stop himself from rutting against Thor like a damn teenager.

“Yes?”

“Hmm?” Fuck, he can’t get enough of Thor’s mouth. Who knew he had such a suit kink.

“You were saying something about ‘can’t’.”

“Oh.” Steve blinks the haze away, then smiles, slow. “Just can’t decide if I want _you_ clothed or not.” He runs his hands up Thor’s back, under the jacket, grips hard to the silk backing of the vest. Grips until he hears that telltale sound.

_Rrrriiiiiiiiippp_

Thor throws his head back and laughs. “Well, I think you just answered your own question.”

“Did I, though?” Steve grabs Thor by the waistband and yanks him back in, only to swallow up his groan as Steve works to undo his belt. He doesn’t waste time, just drops to his knees, then pulls Thor’s cock free. He’s sure there was something about Thor taking him with his suit on, but he doesn’t care. He needs Thor’s dick in his mouth and he needs it _now._

There should be finesse, but there’s not. Steve has had Thor in every position, in every scenario, but this unyielding desire of _want_ coursing through him has never been so intense _._ And it makes him uncoordinated, but no less desperate. He slides his tongue up the underside of Thor’s cock, then swallows him down whole, taking him in rhythm just the way he knows Thor likes. It’s steady, and it’s brutal, and he grips the base as strong hands grapple at the fine hairs on his head.

 _“Fuck,_ yes, Steven,” is the most Thor gets out, and Steve swallows him further, reveling in the headiness of Thor’s dick. He grabs onto Thor’s ass, still covered in that soft, buttery fabric, to pull him in as close as possible, take as much of him as he can. It doesn’t take long for Thor to get with the program, and grabs on to Steve’s face and starts fucking him in deep, sure strokes. Each time he buries himself in the back of Steve’s throat, and each time Steve swallows around him as best he can. His eyes are stinging tears, and he’s whimpering, and he _can’t get enough._

He reaches blindly to swipe the lube he’d stashed on the end table, and clumsily coats one hand, the other still helping Thor along. He wants Thor to fuck him, and he’s all for Thor taking him with no prep because he _knows_ he can take it, but like the sparring match that started all of this, Thor will only push the limits so far. So, Steve undoes his own pants and reaches around to bury two fingers in himself.

And _God._ He keens around Thor’s cock, the sensation too much and not enough, and he wants to touch himself, but he doesn’t want to let go of Thor, and Thor is drilling down his throat, and each time his head hits the arm of the couch, and _fuck,_ it’s all _so much._

He’s barely given himself a minute of prep before he moves to slide up Thor’s body, his tongue laving along fabric and exposed skin. He kisses Thor, then, biting his lip, feral and hungry, as he coats Thor’s dick with the mess of lube still left on his hand. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”

Thor’s grin is just as feral. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He doesn’t bother with preamble, just spins Steve around, yanks down the back of his pants, and slams home. Steve cries out as he falls over the edge of the couch, the pleasure and the pain the perfect kind of ecstasy. Thor grabs him by the hips and starts pounding into him mercilessly. Steve can’t do much more than grapple onto the couch for leverage so he can push back with every thrust. And for one shining goddamn second, Steve knows – he _knows_ – Thor isn’t holding back. He’s giving Steve everything he’s got because he’s too close, he’s too far gone, they both are.

“Touch me, _please,”_ Steve grinds out around Thor’s punishing pace. “I’m not...not gonna last.”

“Nor am I.” Thor grabs him by the back of the jacket – they still have their damn jackets on, _Jesus_ – and yanks him up. He slips his hand under Steve’s shirt to hold him in place and takes Steve’s cock in his other hand. He jerks Steve off in time with his thrusts, and the angle is perfect, the feel of Thor’s touch is perfect. It takes barely a minute, and despite the buildup, the desperation, Steve doesn’t see it coming. His orgasm hits, and it’s so violent, so all encompassing, he forgets how to breathe. His mouth hangs open on a silent cry.

He comes, hard, all over Thor’s hand and his own ridiculously expensive shirt, and doesn’t give one good goddamn about it. After that, it only takes a couple more thrusts before Thor is driving deep into him, his own orgasm making him grunt as his grip on Steve tightens. He grabs hold to keep Thor close as aftershocks hit them both like tiny currents running all over their skin, making them both twitch.

All too soon, Thor pulls out, and they both collapse to the floor. It takes Steve a second to regain himself and he glances back. Thor looks as absolutely wrecked as Steve feels, and he can’t help but smile.

“So I think it’s safe to say we won’t be going to the party,” he comments, as he smooths some of Thor’s sweaty hair back into place.

Thor’s laugh sounds nothing short of amused. “Yes, I suspect Tony would not be happy with either of us if we showed up like this.”

“Oh, Tony’s not going to be happy with us, period. But I actually don’t care.”

“Nor do I,” Thor says. He pushes up to get his jacket off, then glances back to inspect the ruined vest. “I must say, you did nice work. We have fabric similar to your silk back on Asgard, and it too is not easily ripped.”

Steve just shrugs. “Once, during the war, I took a gun off some Nazi shitbag and snapped the thing in half. Ripping your shirt was cake.”

Thor opens his mouth, only to immediately shake his head and smile. “Ah. Piece of cake.”

“That’s the one.”

“I really do get a kick out of Midgardian phrases. I’m going to start taking them back to Asgard with me.”

The mention of Asgard twists something a little inside Steve and he scoots back to lean against the couch where he can face Thor more. “Yeah, about that...”

“Hmm?”

“When you go back to Asgard...” He clears his throat and tries to shake off his nerves. This was, after all, supposed to be a date, and they couldn’t even make it out of the damn hotel without stopping to fuck. “I know you said something about possibly taking me with you at some point, but I mean, I get it if this” – he waves a finger between them” – if what we’ve been doing is all you really want, I’ll understand.”

Thor frowns. “Except I don’t. Are we not on a date? Or is that something _you_ don’t wish for any longer?”

“Well, yeah – I mean, no – I mean...shit.” Steve takes a deep breathe to collect himself. “I actually _did_ want this to be a date. Still do. But I mean, well, usually a date involves, you know, a _date._ The sex is supposed to come after, if it happens at all. This isn’t anything more than what we’ve already been doing.”

Thor stares at him, not saying anything. Steve has no clue what he could possibly be thinking. Thor _did_ agree to the date, but who knows, maybe they weren’t cut out for it. Except for the fact that once he’d asked Thor out, it had become all he could think about. He _wants_ this to be something else.

It takes a moment, but Thor finally smiles at him, soft and, Steve thinks, a little fond. “The bar where we met earlier, it’s also a restaurant, correct?”

“Yeah.” At least, Steve thinks so. He hadn’t really looked it up as anything more than a place to meet.

Then Thor leans in and kisses him, just as soft and just as fond as his smile. Quite possibly the sweetest kiss Steve’s had in this new life. “All right, then. Why don’t we both get cleaned up and meet there in about thirty minutes? I believe I owe you a dinner.”

Steve wasn’t expecting to feel such a wave a relief wash over him, but there it is. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Thor kisses him one more time. “After all, we have to discuss when you’d like to come to Asgard with me. I’d like to introduce you to my mother.”

Steve grins and laughs. Maybe this is a life he can get used to after all.

**Author's Note:**

> A special special thank you to [Boop](http://archiveofourown.org/users/boopboop) and [MarcellaBianca](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcellaBianca) for beta! And a double special special thank you to Boop for saving my ass when it came to choosing and writing the suits.
> 
> All other mistakes are on me. (Ha! What mistakes, I'm perfect.)


End file.
